Blue Quotes - Page 29

• I am earth, earth My heart's love Bursts with hay and flowers. I am a lake of blue air In which my own appointed place Field and valley Stand reflected

  Thomas Merton

  Flower, Heart, Lakes

  Thomas Merton, Lynn Szabo (2005). “In the Dark Before Dawn: New Selected Poems of Thomas Merton”, p.97, New Directions Publishing

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• When you look up. Do you see the blue sky of what might be? Or the darkness of what will never be? Do you see me?

  Kami Garcia

  Sky, Darkness, Looks

  "Beautiful Darkness". Book by Kami Garcia, October 12, 2010.

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• He was in blue jeans and a work shirt, which is another weird quirk of Rich Old Men. Just one of the guys here. Blue jeans and a work shirt, salt of the earth, working man like yourself. Like they're somehow uncomfortable about being rich enough to sleep in a bed made of vaginas being pulled around the town at night by a fleet of gold-covered midgets.

  Warren Ellis

  Sleep, Night, Men

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• In the darkest hour of winter, when the starlings had all flown away, Gretel Samuelson fell in love. It happened the way things are never supposed to happen in real life, like a sledgehammer, like a bolt from out of the blue. One minute she was a seventeen year-old senior in high school waiting for a Sicilian pizza to go; the next one she was someone whose whole world had exploded, leaving her adrift in the Milky Way, so far from earth she was walking on stars.

  Alice Hoffman

  Senior, Stars, Real

  Alice Hoffman (2000). “Local Girls”, p.56, Penguin Group

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• And blue-lung'd combers lumbered to the kill.

  Robert Lowell

  Lungs

  Robert Lowell (1966). “The Achievement of Robert Lowell: A Comprehensive Selection of His Poems with a Critical Introduction”

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• A certain man once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish - but there was no diamond inside. That’s what I like about coincidence.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Friday, Men, Years

  Vladimir Nabokov (2012). “Laughter in the Dark”, p.73, Penguin UK

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• A shrieking rise of power rushed into my pathways, rocking me against the wall. Ido's body slammed into mine. He was not going to let go. Not now. The Rat Dragon howled, his heavy blue force driven back by the onslaught of sinuous gold. Raw,rejoicing energy flooded my seven centers of power; opening,pushing, seeking. And behind it all, a presence exulting in the joy of release and reunion. I looked up and finally my mind-sight was clear. I could see the Mirror Dragon. My Dragon.

  Alison Goodman

  Letting Go, Wall, Mirrors

  Alison Goodman (2010). “Eon”, p.310, Penguin

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• They kissed for the first time then in the cold spring rain, though neither one of them now knew that it was raining. Tristran's heart pounded in his chest as if it was not big enough to contain all the joy that it held. He opened his eyes as he kissed the star. Her sky-blue eyes stared back into his, and in her eyes he could see no parting from her.

  Neil Gaiman

  Stars, Spring, Rain

  Neil Gaiman (2007). “Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess's Stardust: Being a Romance Within the Realms of Faerie”, Vertigo

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• Snowflakes swirl down gently in the deep blue haze beyond the window. The outside world is a dream. Inside, the fireplace is brightly lit, and the Yule log crackles with orange and crimson sparks. There’s a steaming mug in your hands, warming your fingers. There’s a friend seated across from you in the cozy chair, warming your heart. There is mystery unfolding.

  Vera Nazarian

  Christmas, Dream, Healing

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• The great miraculous bell of translucent ice is suspended in mid-air. It rings to announce endings and beginnings. And it rings because there is fresh promise and wonder in the skies. Its clear tones resound in the placid silence of the winter day, and echo long into the silver-blue serenity of night. The bell can only be seen at the turning of the year, when the days wind down into nothing, and get ready to march out again. When you hear the bell, you feel a tug at your heart. It is your immortal inspiration.

  Vera Nazarian

  Inspiration, Heart, Winter

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• Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as golden as the sun's rays, and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her red shoes and her fiddle, but loved most of all, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music.

  Gaston Leroux

  Mother, Sleep, Eye

  Gaston Leroux (2016). “The Phantom of the Opera & The Mystery of the Yellow Room (Mystery Classics): The Ultimate Gothic Romance Mystery and One of the First Locked-Room Crime Mysteries”, p.42, e-artnow

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• I always knew it would come down to you and the big blue school boy. Planet's too big for the BOTH of you. When it all comes down, I want a piece of him. A small piece, will do? For OLD TIMES, sake, you know..it still hurts when its cold.

  Frank Miller

  Hurt, School, Boys

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• George Harrison: The day after the Blue Angel audition, John showed up to rehearsal with a long list of name suggestions, and I remember each and every one of them: the Deads-men, the Deadmen, the Undeads-men, the Undeadmen, the Rots, the Rotters, the Dirts, the Dirty Ones, the Grayboys, the Eaten Brains, the Eating Brains, the Mersey Beaters, the Mersey Beaten, the Bloodless, the Graves, the Headstones, and the Liverpools of Blood. Paul ripped off John's right arm and used it to slap John across the face, then he said, "Those're horrible, mate, just horrible, y'know.

  Alan Goldsher

  Dirty, Angel, Men

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• When the cold comes to New England it arrives in sheets of sleet and ice. In December, the wind wraps itself around bare trees and twists in between husbands and wives asleep in their beds. It shakes the shingles from the roofs and sifts through cracks in the plaster. The only green things left are the holly bushes and the old boxwood hedges in the village, and these are often painted white with snow. Chipmunks and weasels come to nest in basements and barns; owls find their way into attics. At night,the dark is blue and bluer still, as sapphire of night.

  Alice Hoffman

  Husband, Dark, Night

  Alice Hoffman (1999). “Here on Earth”, p.260, Penguin Group

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• [Kane to Rose] I'll never forget the way you looked walking toward me. I never thought that I'd have a woman like you in my life. It's all there etched in my brain. And now, the way the light pours over our hair, the way all that silk shines, so black it's nearly blue. The world disappears when I'm holding you.

  Christine Feehan

  Light, Hair, Rose

  Christine Feehan (2010). “Ruthless Game”, p.286, Penguin

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• Little solace comes to those who grieve when thoughts keep drifting as walls keep shifting and this great blue world of ours seems a house of leaves moments before the wind.

  Mark Z. Danielewski

  Wall, Grieving, Wind

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• Unrequited love is so boring. Weeping under a blue-black sky is for suckers or maniacs.

  Alice Hoffman

  Unrequited Love, Love Is, Sky

  Alice Hoffman (2003). “Practical Magic”, p.88, Penguin

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• I find I'm so excited I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it is the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

  Stephen King

  Dream, Journey, Men

  "Fictional character: Red". "The Shawshank Redemption", www.imdb.com. 1994.

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• As a maternal figure, I always try to keep the flock safe, of course. But I admit, it did my heart proud to see the instant blood-lust pop into Gazzy’s blue eyes and to see little Angel automatically tense up and get into fighting stance, ready to rip someone’s head off. They were just so — so dang adorable, sometimes.

  James Patterson

  Rip, Eye, Angel

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• There was no one color that could paint Lena Duchannes. She was a red sweater and a blue sky, a gray wind and a silver sparrow, a black curl escaping from behind her ear.

  Kami Garcia

  Escaping, Color, Wind

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• Natasha has just come up to the window from the courtyard and opened it wider so that the air may enter more freely into my room. I can see the bright green strip of grass beneath the wall, and the clear blue sky above the wall, and sunlight everywhere. Life is beautiful. Let the future generations cleanse it of all evil, oppression and violence, and enjoy it to the full.

  Leon Trotsky

  Beautiful, Wall, Air

  Leon Trotsky (1977). “Writings of Leon Trotsky: 1939-40”, Pathfinder Pr

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• There was a basket at her feet. She reached into it and lifted out the head of a young woman, a marquise. She wore Bourbon white to her death, but wears the tricolor now - white cheeks, blue lips, red dripping from her neck. Long live the revolution.

  Jennifer Donnelly

  White, Feet, Long

  Jennifer Donnelly (2015). “Revolution”, p.190, Bloomsbury Publishing

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• the redness had seeped from the day and night was arranging herself around us. Cooling things down, staining and dyeing the evening purple and blue black.

  Sue Monk Kidd

  Sunset, Night, Purple

  Sue Monk Kidd (2003). “The Secret Life of Bees”, p.225, Penguin

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• I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in: I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

  Sylvia Plath

  Stars, Eye, Moon

  sylvia plath (1971). “the bell jar”

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• Just that, is one of those uncommon moments, those times when you don't wish for something else, for even one thing to be different; when you have no other needs or worries, where your insides are calm, and everything you were ever restless about, anything that had ever given you angst, is quieted to stillness. No steel ball in your chest, no breathless fear. No blue numbness of nearly passing out, no nagging doubts of the backstage mind. All of that, forgotten. It is just rightness, so rare.

  Deb Caletti

  Numbness, Worry, Doubt

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